In Memoriam
by Damahom
Summary: Oneshot.  Harry goes back to visit James and Lily's house and grave for the first time alone.  In memory of James and Lily Potter.


**Since it's Oct 31...This is in memory of Lily and James Potter, who died on Oct 31 1981. My first Oneshot...enjoy.**

"Mate, are you coming to the party tonight?"

Harry looked up from the _Daily Prophet_ he was pretending to read.

"Of course," he replied quickly, pulling the paper in front of his face again.

"Well," Ron said awkwardly, unsure of his friend's behavior, "I guess I'll see you at Bill's place then, mate?"

Harry replied with a small grunt of assent in the back of his throat. He sensed Ron hesitate, and then finally heard the "pop" of him disapparating.

He threw the newspaper aside and paced his living room impatiently. It was still a few more hours until sundown; he might as well just go now to get it over with. That way he wouldn't be late to Bill and Fleur's gathering.

Just as he began to picture his destination in his head to where he was apparating, a faint "pop" interrupted him.

"Harry?"

His heart fluttered at the soft voice. Despite his strong desire to see Ginny's face, Harry knew that he was in no state. He could barely talk to Ron, let alone the girl he was in love with. He thought for a moment of just disapparating before she noticed that he was home, but he realized that she would hear his "pop."

Instead, he called, "Come in!"

He inhaled as she appeared through the doorway. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was in a tangled, fiery mess.

"Sorry, I just got off practice," Ginny said, blushing under his gaze and attempting to flatten her hair.

"No," said Harry quickly, stepping towards her, "you look great."

She shot him a cynical glare. "No lying to me, Potter."

He just smiled and pulled her into a hug.

"Anyways, I thought I could hang out here for a while before heading over to Bill and Fleur's Halloween party?" she asked.

"I—er—have something to do," he stuttered lamely. He hadn't time to think of a proper lie.

She pulled back so that she could get an appraising look of him. He hated and loved when she did that; he felt as though she were performing Legilimency on him without him realizing.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," he said shortly. He really didn't feel like discussing it. For the first time in his life, he wished Ginny would leave.

"Harry _James_ Potter—"

This struck a chord within him. "I don't want to discuss it," he cut off sharply. She looked affronted.

"Fine," she huffed, grabbing the clothes she had just dropped to the couch. "Fine. Just choose to be miserable and alone. You _clearly_ don't need —"

"Ginny," Harry breathed in frustration. He caught her by her upper arm as she reached for the doorknob. She could have just apparated away, but that wasn't Ginny's style. She liked to leave by first slamming a door.

"Look, I'm just visiting my parents grave for the first time alone," he said softly. "I just wanted to go and not make a deal of it."

Her look softened, but her tone was just as stiff as it had been before.

"_You're_ the one making a deal of it. I just walked in and you were being all cold."

Harry tried to pull her into a hug, but she resisted. Knowing that this was a frequent game of hers, he just pulled harder until she submitted to being held to his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I'm just not—"

"S'okay," she interrupted, her tone now soft. "Come here."

He allowed her to pull his face to hers. He inhaled her scent and felt her lips move against his, and he was instantly calmed. All the anxiousness he had felt earlier ebbed away, and he lost himself in her for a few blissful moments.

"I should get going," she said reluctantly, keeping her arms entwined around his neck. "I'll see you later tonight?"

"Yeah," he said, still dazed from her embrace.

She kissed him gently on the cheek, and with a small "pop," disapparated from his home, leaving his arms hovering around empty air.

* * *

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to step forward. He barely recognized the path he was on; last time he'd been there, the town was covered in snow.

He made his way easily down the path towards the center of town, passing cozy cottages along the way. Some houses had put out carved pumpkins and festive decorations in celebration of Halloween. Harry vaguely wondered if there had been a pumpkin outside _his_ house that night—

His thoughts trailed off as he approached the town square. The war memorial caught his attention; he'd completely forgotten about it. He approached it and watched as it transformed into James and Lily Potter, and little Harry on their laps. He stared up at it, studying it with the time he hadn't had before. He'd seen plenty of pictures of his mother and father, but he greedily took in this new image of them. He vaguely wondered who'd created this; who'd so perfectly captured the laughter in his father's eyes, and his mother's kind smile.

Harry inhaled deeply and held his breath, trying to gain control of himself. He'd look crazy to any muggle passing by, standing at an old war memorial and crying. He decided to continue on, setting his sights on the church at the back of town.

Instead, he suddenly veered off the opposite direction at the last minute. He wanted to go to his house first he decided.

He made his way down a darker lane at the far left of the village and squinted his eyes. The dark, broken mass of his house was still standing. He stopped in front of the gate and touched it, raising the sign he'd seen a year and a half ago. "Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse..."

Harry re-read the words inscribed on the sign quickly, and moved on to examining the graffiti more closely. Written over the words of encouragement he'd once read were now words of thanks and congratulations. "We are forever indebted to you, Harry Potter!" "Long live Harry Potter!" "Bless you, Harry James Potter."

Harry gulped and took his hand off the gate. The sign disappeared. He looked up at the house, now gleaming peacefully in the October twilight. With a renewed sense of comfort, he pushed the gate opened and walked up the tangled path to his house.

There was no door on the front hinges; Harry remembered that Voldemort had blasted the door through when he entered. He took a deep breath and crossed the threshold.

He looked around in bewilderment, unable to believe that after seventeen years, he was back in this house. It was very cozy, he noticed, when he ignored the disturbances on the surface. He glanced around the living room, trying to take it in all at once. He noticed that the picture frames were empty; perhaps some of the photos that Hagrid had given Harry in his album had been taken from here.

He continued walking through the dusty living room. A large, overstuffed couch was to his left, and he ran his hand along it as he passed. The room was smartly decorated with strong-looking wood furniture. Harry passed a rocking chair and pictured his mother—his young, beautiful mother—rocking a raven-haired baby to sleep in it. He sniffed loudly and continued onto the kitchen.

Plates lay scattered on the counter, as though someone had placed them there with the intent of eventually putting them away. Harry imagined that it had been his dad's turn to put away the dishes, but instead he chose to play a game of wizard chess with Sirius while Lily put Harry to bed. Or perhaps Lily had just been about to wave her wand to put them away, when she heard Harry's hungry wails, and hurried away, forgetting about the plates.

He also noticed a tiny, moth-eaten toy mouse out of the corner of his eye. He suddenly remembered that they had had a cat. He wondered what became of the poor creature when its home was suddenly blasted away. He wondered if he could have extracted some kind of memories from it, had it been there now.

With another deep breath, he turned towards the stairs. They looked unstable, after years of wear, but it was worth the risk. He slowly ascended them, and at the top was hit with a blast of cold air. The right side of the top floor had been blown apart; Harry's old room. Everything was incinerated beyond recognition.

He instead turned to the left and made his way towards a closed door; his parent's room. He opened it slowly and peered into the dim light.

"Lumos," he muttered, impatient to get a better view of the room. It was furnished well, in the same fashion as the living room. The bed was large, but beautifully simple. The mattress looked like it had once been comfortable.

He noticed a faded green woman's robe laying across the foot of the bed. Harry stepped towards it and delicately picked it up. He was disappointed that it was cold. He pulled it up to his face hopefully and inhaled; perhaps, after all these years, his mother's scent lingered. Instead, he sneezed violently as dust assaulted his nose. Disappointed, he threw the robe aside and moved on.

He moved forward and looked on the dresser for a more promising relic. Scraps of parchment lay there, but one in particular caught his eye. He recognized the handwriting; Sirius.

"_Lily-_

_ Tell the little bugger happy birthday for me. I hope he gets to do something with at least a little excitement (I know that will be difficult without me there). I've enclosed a present which I think will keep you and Prongs on your toes for a little while. Jamesie must be getting bored cooped up in there; I know I'm ready to let the doxies in my curtains slowly gnaw my head off. It's all for the best, though, I suppose._

_Let me know if you ever want me to pop over quickly for a visit. James and I are ready to bend Dumbledore's rules a bit for a quick hello; he just doesn't let me do it because he says you'd throw a fit. When this is all over, I'm kidnapping James and Harry on my motorbike and having some real fun. Just kidding...I'll only nab Prongs. Mini-Prongs will get his turn soon enough, though._

_X's and O's_

_Sirius Black_"

Harry folded the letter and tucked it away in his pocket. Another blast of cold air reminded him that his time was slightly limited, and he should get a move on. He grabbed any remaining papers he could find through the room, intending on scouring them thoroughly when he got the chance. At the moment, his parents were waiting.

* * *

Harry approached the kissing gate he and Hermione had once entered together, over a year ago. He'd been unable to come back since then; so much had happened since Voldemort fell. Last Halloween he'd been invited back to Hogwarts for the feast, and didn't even think of his parents' graves until afterwards. Since then, he'd been so busy working with the Ministry to rebuild, going through Auror training, comforting Molly and the other Weasleys about Fred, spending time with Ginny...

Harry pushed his feelings of guilt aside. He didn't want to feel that when he was with his parents. They would have understood that his friends needed him first.

He made a beeline to the spot that Hermione had once found. He hadn't forgot where it was; he needed no time to scan the tombstones. He stood in front of their graves, looking down at the inscription: "_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death_."

He sat down in front of the tombstone on the hard, semi-frozen ground. A cool breeze blew, stinging the cold tears that had formed in his eyes. His parents had only been the first in the series of dreadful deaths that followed Voldemort's rise. Harry thought of how every one of James' friends was now gone. Harry was really all that truly remained of James and Lily's memories.

Harry now lay down on the ground over where his parents' bodies were buried. Although his situation was exponentially better than it had been the first time he'd visited, he still wished for the same: that he was beneath the ground with them. He pressed his body against the ground, irrationally trying to get closer to them.

"I miss you," he said softly to the ground, his voice cracking. He now allowed his tears to fall freely. "_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death_. I'll be with you soon. Don't forget about me."

He sat up now, resting his back to the tombstone and burying his eyes in his hands. He made no effort to control himself as he had done with Hermione there.

Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he had sobbed to the point where he'd run out of tears. With a great sniff, he turned around to face the tombstone on his knees.

"I have a present for you this time," he whispered, reaching to his pocket. He fingered a tiny golden snitch, the same one that had contained the ring that temporarily brought his parents back to life; the first snitch he'd ever caught.

He pulled out his wand, and muttered a simple spell to clear the dirt away for a hole. He dropped the snitch in and re-covered the hole.

Harry felt suddenly satisfied. He was no longer sad. He re-read the inscription one last time: "_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death_." He knew he'd be with them again soon enough. For now, he had another red-haired mother to go hug, and a life with Ginny to begin.


End file.
